


Gene

by moosesmittens



Category: The LEGO Movie (2014)
Genre: Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, Lord Business has a daughter, Other, Physical Abuse, begrudging friendship, characters united by their shitty situations, it goes just as bad as you'd expect, please don't read if this is a trigger for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 03:12:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18086384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moosesmittens/pseuds/moosesmittens
Summary: It’s only a matter of time before Gene gets caught in a restricted area. It’s only a matter of time before Gene realises being the daughter of Lord Business doesn’t offer as much protection as she thought.There are consequences for breaking the rules, even for the President’s daughter.





	Gene

**Author's Note:**

> Old Grittyverse fic that I'm actually really proud of! I discovered it in my old writings and realised I might as well post it since I've deleted my Tumblr and it's been lost to oblivion.

It’s only a matter of time before Gene gets caught in a restricted area. It’s only a matter of time before Gene realises being the daughter of Lord Business doesn’t offer as much protection as she thought. There are consequences for breaking the rules, even for the President’s daughter.

“Let me go!”

Two MicroManagers, one on either side, seize her arms in a vice-like grip. Clad in white, tinted visors concealing half their faces. Gene’s never liked Lord Business’ elite security force. Her father’s elite security force. They’re not like the bots, sullen and grey as they are. No, these fellas are just plain nasty. They enjoy their job. She’s seen her father set them on people like a pack of ravenous hounds. Of course, she’s always ferried out of the room before she can see the damage. 

Now she’s being hauled down the hallway like a prisoner. She should never have snuck into that interrogation room. She wishes she could forget what she’d seen. She should have listened to her father.

“Do you even know who I am? I’m President Business’s _daughter_! You two are gonna be in so much trouble when my Dad finds out!” She babbles. She wishes she could believe her own words. The Manager on the right smirks, a sinister slash of mouth. The other simply grunts and squeezes her arm harder. 

No response. Heat begins to simmer, white-hot and bubbling in her gut. 

They can’t treat her like this! 

Gene snarls and lashes out with her foot, catching the one on the left in the knee. He grimaces, but doesn’t release his grip. The one on the right seizes her hair, twisting it. Tears spring to her eyes.   


“Don’t you do that again.” He growls in her ear. She freezes as his hot breath curls against her skin. She bows her head and he lets her go. Her feet drag along the floor as she’s frogmarched down the hall.

Doors clang open and a wave of panic hits hard when Gene realises where’s they’ve taken her. 

Holding cells. 

She’s numb as they shove her into the first one, She stumbles forward and falls to her knees. They laugh and she shoots them a poisonous look over her shoulder. Then, the door slams shut and she’s alone. 

Alone with her thoughts. She wants a distraction. Anything. As long as she doesn’t think about what she saw in that room.

Time passes, feels like hours. But it’s hard to tell. Gene clutches the prison bars, cold steel digging into her palms. The holding cells were chilled, perhaps deliberately. Her teeth click together as she begins to shiver.

She jumps when the door clangs open, but it’s not the person she expects. His mouth is pressed into a thin line, aviators reflect the dim lighting. She shrinks back, eying him warily. She wants to say something brave but her tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth. 

He didn’t look like the man she’d seen earlier. What he’d done to that prisoner… She remembers the bright red that dribbled from that quivering mouth. 

“You’re coming with me.” Bad Cop states matter-of-factly. There’s a buzz and the metallic door slides open with a crunch. She takes a step back, a lump forming in her throat. 

The last time she’d seen this face it had been scrunched in concentration, a gash of a scowl cutting across his face; a spray of red dusting his cheeks. 

“Where are we going?” There’s a tremor in her voice.

“To see your Dad.” Bad Cop says, casually leaning against the cell door. 

“I’m not going.” She mutters, a pinch of defiance pricking her anxiety. She looks down, bunching her fists on either side.

“Very well.” He doesn’t seem angry. He just folds his arms and settles against the frame of the door. Silence descends between them, pressing and heavy.

Gene wonders how long he’ll stay there. He seems content enough to wait her out. She steels her jaw, frowning. Bad Cop tilts his head upwards, focusing his gaze elsewhere. It’s the sort of thing one might do when coaxing a timid animal out of a cage.

It’s only seconds before she sighs, a defeated huff of breath, and marches out. There’s a snort of amusement behind her and it just makes her teeth grind. 

“Slow down, missy.”

He’s chiding her. A prickling heat rises to her cheeks. She’s not a kid anymore. _Technically_ she’s a teenager! He escorts her out of the room. Gene feels her hackles rise at the man’s gaze on her back. 

He had been so methodical in that room. The baton snapping across the prisoner’s kneecap to break the bone with an almost surgical precision.

“We’re here.”

Gene startles, realising where she is: in front of a pair of ridiculously large doors that really should be in a cathedral. Not an office. Despite herself, she feels a ripple of relief as Bad Cop falls in step behind her. She’s not going in alone.

She’s been in this room countless times before and, once again, she feels insignificant in this vast open space. She’s stepped into another dimension. Pale white walls, halogen lights glare down from the ceiling arcing over monolith stone pillars displaying a range of relics. She would have said it all looks ridiculous. But she knows better.

It’s all theatrics. Just a show of power. A game.

“It’s about time you two showed up!” Her father’s voice booms loud, reverberates around the room. 

He’s sitting at his desk on the other side of the room. Her heart thuds faster. Bad Cop’s footfalls increase behind her, forcing her to quicken the pace. They make it to the desk and Bad Cop plants himself behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. She’s tempted to shrug it off. She feels like a prisoner. But she forces herself to look at her father. He looks over her to Bad Cop.

He doesn’t even acknowledge her presence. She bites her lip, something spiking at her chest.

“Bad Cop! Why are you late?” Less a question, more an accusation.

Gene feels a leaden weight sink in her gut. She’s the reason they’re late. Her stalling and Bad Cop’s patience. He’ll give her in. It’s the only proper recourse. She expects this. What’s one more crime to compound another? She’ll take the blame. She has to. Gene lifts her chin, gritting her teeth and flexing her fingers.

“I got held up. Bots needed help with something. Unavoidable. I’m sorry, sir.” 

Her head snaps slightly to the side, eyes widening. He’s taking the rap for her! Going against her Dad was gutsy to say the least. She tries to keep her expression impassive, focusing on the grains of wood in the desk.

“Is that right?” Her Dad asks, raising his brow and leaning forward on the desk. He clasps his hands together in front of him.

“Yes, sir.”

“Don’t lie to me, Bad Cop.” The tension in the room draws taut. The security cameras. Of course! He must have been keeping an eye on her.

“Sir I-“ Bad Cop tries to protest, his voice strains with unmistakable panic. Clearly he’s not thought this through.

“Do I _look_ like an idiot to you? _”_ It’s a question with only one answer. He always does that.

“N-no sir I-“

“Shut up, Bad Cop. I’ll deal with you later.” He waves the cop off, a dismissive gesture. Gene knows that won’t be the end of it. Bad Cop has gone very still behind her. She feels a pang of sympathy. He knows that too.

Her Dad turns to face her, finally acknowledging her existence. Heat prickles up her neck.

“Now! Genevieve what have I told you about wandering off?” 

“It’s against the rules.”

“Exactly. And what have I told you about _my_ rules?”

“Not to break them.”

“Right. So, would you mind explaining to me _why_ you BROKE MY RULES!” His voice raises, slamming his fists onto the desk, making the whole thing shudder. A tin of pencils wobbles and clatters to the ground.

“Ugh, now look what you’ve done! Pick that up!” 

Gene casts a glance a Bad Cop standing rigid and to attention. His forehead gleams with a sheen of sweat. He’s nervous… Maybe even _afraid._ A jolt of adrenaline tears through her. 

It’s easy to distinguish who the most dangerous man in the room is. 

She bends down and picks up the tin, setting it on the table. She collects the scattered pencils and places them in the tin with a faint clang.

“That’s not all of them.” Her father's gaze is searing. 

She averts her gaze on instinct. “That’s all I could find…” 

“Ugh, _useless_!” He snarls, thumping the desk once more. He pauses and passes a hand over his face, heaving a deep sigh. 

Gene shifts her weight from foot to foot, flicks her gaze over to Bad Cop. He looks pale, tension in his face pulling at the faint scars across his upper lip. 

“And stop _shuffling!_ Can’t you just stay _still?”_

Gene freezes in place and bows her head. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“That’s the problem with you, isn’t it? You just can’t stay put. You used to be such a good girl. What would your mother think?” He says. 

Her head snaps up; she takes a step forward, locking gazes with her father. That stings.

“Dad… You can’t just…” Gene trails off, hurriedly glancing at the floor, swallowing that ever persistent lump rising in her throat. 

“Speak up. I hate it when you mumble.” He snaps. 

Why is it so hard to speak to him? He’s her father. She should be able to speak to him! Isn’t that what having a father was supposed to be about? 

She risks looking at him, he’s gone very still. His head tilts to one side like a curious child but his eyes are cold and his nostrils flare.  She should stop here. Backpedal, swallow her pride and cut her losses. That is the sensible thing to do. But something snaps inside her, fizzles and burns like a firecracker.

“You can’t… You can’t expect me to just _stay put_. I’m not one of your _damn_ **_relics_**!” Her voice raises, cracking. It’s hard to breathe with her heart thudding so frantically in her chest. And she knows she’s just said the wrong thing. 

Her father’s face contorts, lines cutting deeper; he turns a deep shade of crimson. For a moment she thinks he’s going to launch himself at her. She takes a step back, gulping frantically. Then his face relaxes, goes slack. A lull in the storm. He makes a motion with his hand to Bad Cop. 

There’s a beat, a moment where Bad Cop seems to freeze; his head wobbles. A refusal? 

Suddenly the cop’s hands are harsh on her shoulders. He spins her around to face him before the back of his hand cracks across her face; snapping her head to the side. White light explodes behind her eyes and a stinging burn spreads across her cheeks. Everything spins. Shock leaves her numb. She feels tears well up and wills them away. Dad hates to see her cry.

“I really wish you would stop making me do that, Genevieve. You know I don’t want to. But it’s the only way you’ll learn.” 

Gene nods, she feels a weight dragging her down. Her face is burning. It’s difficult to tell where the pain ends and the shame begins.

“Now you’re not going to run off again, are you?”

“No, Dad.”

“That’s right. You’re gonna be a good girl.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Fantastic. Take her back to her room, Bad Cop.”


End file.
